Extant
by vin.fireclaw
Summary: Is it really true, if you aren't remembered, you never existed? What then, Alice, would you do if you, still not remembering, feel something, someone-a constant presence always watching you? Does it-she-still exist?


Yo! This is a fic I starting writing probably about 8 months ago. I'm not quite sure exactly when, really. Overall, this is probably one of my favorite things I've ever written. It's my tribute to Serial Experiments Lain, something I only fervently wish I had the intellectual capacity to create. This piece is mostly centered around the last episode and there's a good chunk of the dialogue in the middle that is taken directly from the show itself. It's the scene where Lain meets the adult Alice. So that's that! Hope you enjoy this as much as I did writing it! --fireclaw

* * *

You don't know when it happened, but you started to hate electronics. 

It seemed to start on a whim. Like you just woke up one day in your (surreal?) life and decided that you hated all technology. You can't walk up to your Navi, check your e-mail, or even stand next to the TV without getting this odd feeling. Like you've forgotten something, like you're right next to the answer—the (one?) TRUTH—and can't place your finger on it. Your life is missing something (someone?). You know what it is, but at the same time you don't.

You thought you were going crazy. You find yourself staring towards the front of the classroom at an empty space, trying to remember if someone had ever occupied that lonely seat. And then you touch your cellphone and _that_ feeling arises.

You begin to loathe it.

You hate the feeling of being left out. You want to—you search for the truth. It is just part of your nature, like the inexplicable desire to reach out to introverted, shy people that no one else wants to deal with. Call it compassion; or maybe you're just selfish, and the only time you feel alive is when you're supporting others.

When your hand touches the monitor, the television—anything electronic—you suddenly get this sensation that you're touching an old friend. Not in that odd, sentimental way that geeks and nerds do when regarding their machinery. It's more like—like you're actually _touching_ someone—a (real?) person—and for the briefest moment, you get a glimpse of it (her?) smiling back at you with a (familiar?) shy smile. When you go near telephone wires, ride the subway, and especially when you visit Cyberia, you get this odd sensation as if someone (…she?) is watching you with a fond gaze. But when you turn, you always see nothing.

That feeling is enough to make you want to destroy your Navi, smash apart your radio, and punch a hole into your television. You want to tear out your hair and scream, "WHY? WHY ARE YOU TORMENTING ME LIKE THIS?" but something within makes you stop before you can. As if you couldn't bear the repercussions. Odd, isn't it? Like you're afraid to hurt the electronic's feelings…or whatever (whoever?) is watching.

There is another reason. You just can't not use technology. It isn't done in this time, this world. Everyone is connected. There is no way you can avoid it. Even if you do so—break everything apart—you would have to replace it. Without connections, you cease to exist.

It's just like you can't stop visiting Cyberia in a vain attempt to glance upon…whatever (whoever?) is causing the feeling. Of course, you then always wonder _why_ you go to Cyberia in the first place.

Maybe you're just going insane.

So you tuck it all in and put on that brave, kind smile of yours and go on with life as if nothing has happen. Your schoolgirl crush on that handsome teacher fades as you get older and perhaps a tad wiser—at least in the ways of this (current?) world.

Somehow between you enjoying your life with your friends, flittering about with that teacher (you break up with him a couple months later), you manage to study hard. You finish middle school, graduate high school, and enter the college of your dreams with little trouble. For some reason, you feel compelled to major in education—just like when you receive your degree and decide you just _had_ to work at the same middle school and teach in the same classroom. You always make sure that one desk is unoccupied; you never let anyone sit there. You don't care what strange rumors arise—you just do.

Every so often when the school day ends, when everyone else leaves, you go and sit at your old desk. Your blue eyes turn slightly and you look off at an angle to that one desk in the front of the room as if you believe it will suddenly be occupied again by…by…a friend? A girl who never existed? Someone who existed at some time, but no one, not even your own self remembers?

Even though you hate the feeling, you find that you'll still touch the monitor of your Navi just to invoke the sensation once again, even though you can't go a day without feeling it. It's like your unnamed, invisible, but (surely?) real friend is near you. You'll fall asleep with your hand on the screen and dream—no, recall—your "past" occupied by the everyday mundane motions of middle school life. Only now there is always that unnamed girl lurking in the corner. She'll never smile at you, and when you approach her, you always notice how detached from the real world she seems. Strange, isn't it? The presence you feel in the awake hours is benevolent and you can always _feel _her smile.

You'll get so close to that big, static-y TRUTH only to wake up at your table and see your monitor's screen illuminated in the darken room. It's aggravating. The first time it happens to you, you actually lose your patience and break both the table and your Navi. You quickly replace both. The very next day the same thing happens.

That was when you decide to get married. You find a suitable man—a rich lawyer who could always make you laugh. He was slightly older than you, but you did always find yourself attracted to older men. You hope that the sensation would dull. It did for a moment, like the time you first started to seriously date him. There were actual days when you'd stand near telephone wires and whatnot and feel nothing. As if…if…it (she?) was jealous. That had to be it. Like a friend being replace.

But the presence always returns. You remember the day you got married—that was one of the times it was the strongest. You could just feel someone's eyes boring at you, never blinking, never wavering. How unsettling. For your honeymoon, you try to find someplace away from all technology. Unfortunately no place like that exists in the world. You became so angry and the presence shrunk back for a long time.

But it (she?) always returns.

Oh, how you hate that feeling. It's so terrible, disconcerting, and how you hate enigmas! It (She?) continues to duck, weave, and avoid your grasp for so many years. Though you did notice how, as the years go by, the feeling diminishes. Like it (she?) was getting better at hiding. You then get this funny thought: no, that's not true; _she _is becoming more accustomed to _her_ powers.

And then you blink, trying to figure out exactly how you came to that conclusion. It's happen before, like that one time in middle school where you ended up texting yourself and then said to your friends: "I just thought of something strange…If you don't remember something, it never happened…If you aren't remembered, you never existed."

It is an odd thought, and now, looking back you find the reasoning rather sophomoric. It's like that age-old philosophical question of whether or not a falling tree in the forest makes a sound if no one is there to hear it. There are two ways of looking at it: one from the standpoint of a single being; the other from the omnipresent standpoint. What happened has happened, and even if humanity doesn't remember, it will still have happened. You didn't have to be there to know it existed.

Memory isn't linear, neither is time. Just because something isn't remembered, it still would have occurred. If it was scraped, you'll still be able to find bits of pieces of it everywhere. There is no "all reset" in life that can erase everything, especially if the one pushing the button still exists. It, the remnants of the past, will linger in the air, continue to dance on the tightrope strings of life—just not in the now.

Something within you clicks. Just then you feel large, warm hands on your shoulder.

Your husband laughs.

"Thinking deep thoughts again, Alice?"

There is a triumphant smile on your face though you're not quite sure why. "I just figured something out. I'm not sure what, but I did."

You blink and realize how odd it sounds. But the epiphany itself was odd. So you merely laugh it off, kiss him, and then say how you two should finally buy those bedroom curtains after putting it off for so long. The previous owner of your home had appalling taste. Like your husband. Of course, you don't say anything, but you know that you can manipulate the situation so that he'll let you pick the curtains.

So you leave your home, latched onto his arm. You laugh and joke with him.

And suddenly you feel _it_. Your blue eyes widen in shock. It felt so tangible this time. So strong. You remember…someone. A girl. But it is all fuzzy like someone has (had?) stolen your memory.

You see a young girl in a pink jacket who barely could reach the rails of the bridge. She is watching you, her expression is hard to discern. You tell your husband to wait and you start to run towards her, your eyes never leaving her form. It's silly, but you're afraid that if you blink or look away for even a second she'll disappear from your sight.

For a moment you stop and stare at her when you came face to face. She seems so familiar, like someone you should know. Her name is on the tip of your tongue, but at the same time it is not. You strain your mind, ransacking it because—dammit! You should know!

She only looks at you with a knowing look and a small, near invisible smile. It is a fond gaze and her eyes are a bit retrospective. You cannot help but smile kindly at her and move closer to her.

"Hello," you say as you bend down to her level. She returns the greeting.

In your mind you're still trying to put a memory to her face, but you then say:

"Have we met before? We have, haven't we?"

Her face remains rather blank. She looks at you with those wide, innocent brown eyes of hers, yet her smile is knowing. She knows something that you don't. But she doesn't say anything.

You still continue to think. You just started teaching classes on your own and you remember all the students so…ah! That has to be it.

"Did you go to the school I was student teacher at?" you say, but then realize something. "No. That can't be it…"

You have an amazing memory. Her face does not match any of your students. You would've definitely remembered her asymmetric hair style and those wide brown eyes.

"Please to meet you," she says after a moment. Her expression remains unchanged. Her voice is soft and gentle.

"Huh?" You are thrown off. She is so familiar. A part of you is actually happy to see that she is alright. That doesn't make sense at all. Why wouldn't she be?

"It's a pleasure to meet you. We haven't met before," she says calmly which strikes you as slightly unusual. Normal girls her age would just laugh off a total stranger running up to them and asking if she met them before. She just continues to stare knowingly at you. Her presence is so familiar, but you don't make any connection.

"Oh. Then I'm pleased to meet you," you say with a smile, bowing. "I'm Alice. Strange name, isn't it? I'm kind of embarrassed about it. What is yours?"

At the very least, you'll learn this girl's name.

"Lain."

"Lain?" You repeat, looking to your right in reverie and then up. You don't know anyone who has that name. No, you do…don't you? It's there; somewhere in your mind. There is a little piece of you that knows. Just when you felt you were getting closer to that TRUTH you've been trying to find, he has to interrupt.

It would be quite weird for you to continue to the conversation even though you wanted to. So you turn back to her to say:

"Lain, I'll see you later then. Maybe we'll run into each other again someday."

Even though little of her expression actually changes—you're beginning to think her face is permanently frozen in that look—you can tell she is extremely pleased with your reply even though she says nothing. She just keeps looking at you with that knowing gaze and you suddenly get this feeling that Lain is far older than she appears. What a bizarre feeling—you've had so many of those.

You bid her farewell. As you and your husband leave, you can feel her gaze turn back to you. Even though she is too far to hear, you swear you hear her utter, "You're right. We can see each other anytime."

You suddenly feel extremely nostalgic and also you feel an echo of fear. A younger version of you resonates in your mind.

_"Why did you only leave my memory alone!? Do you hate me that much, Lain?_

Try as you must, you just barely manage to shove that thought aside with a shiver. You husband laughs again and ask if you're cold. You dismiss the notion, wishing you could do the same to the thought. For days it continues to bother you. You keep searching and searching, trying to find what has been taken from you.

One day, you pretend to be sick so you can stay home alone in thought. You know that the epiphany you had changed something. Minutes after it, you see that girl, Lain, whose gaze gives you exactly the same sensation that electronics do. Does that make sense? Does that mean that Lain…what?

You stand up and go into the living room where your Navi is situated. You turn it on and touch it—you can barely feel that sensation. It's so dull now, but it is still there.

"Lain?" The name slips out of your mouth. You're not too sure why.

Something strange happens. The Navi seems to tremble; electricity runs through your fingertips and you jump away. It is as if you surprised it. You can feel yourself shaking nervously, but you continue.

"L-Lain?" You say again, mustering up whatever strength you have.

The presence shrinks back. For some reason, that makes all the fear in you dissipate. You smile kindly at your monitor.

"Lain, I'm not afraid. Please talk to me. I know you are here."

"I'm not here, I'm everywhere." A soft voice replies. You turn and see something that makes you gasp and smile at the same time. You feel like running up to the figure dressed in those bear pajamas, hug her, and coo how cute she is dressed like that.

There, hiding slightly behind the wall that divides the living room with the kitchen, was a short figure whose face was hidden by the hood of her bear pajamas. You see those black dots sewn into clothing directed at you because the girl is looking shyly down.

You are speechless for a moment. You didn't expect to be answered. No, it was half-expected, but the possibility of being so was slightly frightening, therefore…

Curiouser and curiouser.

"You are Lain." You say because you have to confirm it.

The bear's head nods, the face of its owner still refuses to look up. "I am Lain."

You should be afraid. You did not hear the door being open nor would that explain how a little girl could break in so quickly. Yet, you are not. "But who is Lain?"

"Lain is Lain." She replies simply and then hid more of herself behind the wall.

A smile tugs at your lips for some reason. "Alright, Lain. Will you at least sit near me? Please?"

The girl hesitates and looks like she is debating whether to run away or not. So you repeat your plea. Your blue eyes are suddenly met with familiar brown as she looks up. She nods and crosses that last invisible threshold. She doesn't sit right next to you, but leaves a large space between you and her.

"I don't bite," you laugh.

"Neither do I." She says quietly. "I do something worse."

"What's that?"

She doesn't answer you and instead tugs the hood down, covering her face so she doesn't have to look at you.

"Lain?" You say again, moving closer to her. Your hand touches her knee and she flinches.

"I shouldn't have come. I can't bring myself to do it again, but you are going to hate me again." She mutters so softly you have to strain your ears to hear it.

"Why would I hate you?" You ask. "Again…? Lain, I don't understand."

She hugs her knees and buries her head down. "I really do only give you pain, Alice."

"I don't understand." You say though you get a sinking feeling in your stomach that somewhere in your subconscious you do. There is a part of you that wants to run away from the girl as fast as possible, one that deeply fears Lain.

She suddenly looks up and straight in your eyes, her voice serious. "I am God. The God of the Wired. That's why you feel me. No…that isn't exactly true. Why do you feel me? You shouldn't."

You are confused. "I don't follow what you are saying, Lain."

She straightens a little bit and continues to stare at you with those strange, all-knowing brown eyes. "I am the God of the Wired."

"I see." You say incredulously, not sure how to respond to this. You really have fallen down the rabbit hole this time, Alice. Where have you landed? That is what you think.

Lain seems to lose her confidence and she shifts farther away from you, her face once again is hidden in the depths of her pajama hood. "I'm sorry."

You finally gathered your courage. Standing up, you move close to the seemingly young girl who mysteriously materialized into your room and sit down next to her. She doesn't move but is visibly surprised. Her body stiffens. You place a comforting hand on her knee. Perhaps all those years of teaching have finally paid off. "Please tell me what is troubling you, all of it. I don't understand the bits and pieces you are giving me."

You should be afraid; you should be running as far as you can from this self-declared God. But you're not.

"I tried to do something really bad. Unspeakably bad, but you saved me at the last moment. And then you died, Alice," Lain whispers. "The world is better off without me, without being connected like that. So I erased myself from everyone's memories. There is no need for me to exist in this world."

"How?" You say softly, not quite believing what she said. But you know it's true. Some part of you just _knows_.

"I am God. God of the Wired. The world and the people in it are ruled by electrical currents, synapses. I can control them, everyone. But I decided that I had no place here. People should live through their own choices." She pauses here and reaches out to gently wrap your hand in both of her own. You almost flinch out of surprise—and how familiar the touch is to you—but you control yourself. You are surprised at how cold she is—and that she is tangible.

"Warm," she says as she presses your hand to her cheek. Her eyes stare fondly into yours. "Humans are warm, not cold like the technology they create. They don't need the programs fed to them like machines do. They are not perfect, but that's alright. That's what makes them human and far more special than anything they could ever create. You taught me that, Alice."

She drops your hand and smiles hesitantly. Her hood falls.

"Do you remember, Alice?" She asks. Curiosity is in her voice.

"I…feel" You say, the whole situation is surreal. But perhaps that is why you are able to function—you can't believe it is happening, you don't understand anything, so you function as if everything is normal. "I always felt something missing in my life, especially around middle school. Something wasn't right. Was that you?"

Lain looks mildly surprised. On any other person that would have been translated into gaping shock. She didn't expect it, but then, she didn't predict this encounter.

"You felt me?" She asks. "Echoes? But I erased myself."

You smile; your epiphany has given you something that even the God of the Wired did not have. "Maybe it is magic." You tease lightly.

"There is no such thing as magic." Lain replies automatically.

"Oh ye of little faith," you say laughing. "Humans are not like machines. You cannot erase them, reboot them, or fix them like you do technology."

"Why?"

"Hmm…I don't know." You say honestly, wondering yourself. "I guess it's more of a feeling I have, rather than actually knowing."

Lain remains silent, waiting for you to say more. But you don't really know what to say, like…like…back then? You blink and stare at Lain.

"Lain?" The girl looks at you expectantly. "What happened, back then?"

She shrinks back from you, but you grab hold of her arm before she could run away. Even though you get the feeling that she could easily break that hold, it is the gesture that stuns her, not the actual physical touch. She looks down at to where your hand touches her arm.

"Do you really want to know?" She asks softly.

You pause and try to think. Yes, you want to know. Badly. This is what you have been missing for half your life. This is what would make all the lost parts of the puzzle come together and give you a clear picture, a clear recollection. But do you want it? Do you want that one TRUTH that has been dodging you for so long?

"I…" You begin, unsure. You decide to just look into her eyes instead of speaking. Lain stares back, her eyes are inquisitive, wide. There is a sad smile on her face. No, not quite sad…it's more nostalgic. You want to remember, you really do. At least, that is what you're telling yourself. You're trying to convince part of you who is still screaming for you to run, run as far as you can from Lain, away from this self-titled "God" and you certainly don't need those memories Lain claimed she erased. You don't need this instability in your life. You have a normal life. Why do you want to give it all away?

"I…want to know. I have to know." You say tentatively. It's the truth. You've just brush across that one TRUTH in your life. You have to know, break the shell you've been hiding in for all these years. This was the moment; all your questions would be able to be answered. Wasn't this what all humans wanted, to come face-to-face with an omnipotent being that seemingly had all the answers to the insatiably curious human mind?

"Are you sure?"

"Y-yes."

She slowly reaches out for you with her two hands. You feel cold hands touching your cheeks. The actual gesture means nothing; these tangible hands on your cheeks are nothing. It was the sentiment behind them that meant the world. She was trying to reassure you, even now. Reassure for what was to come, for the feeling, the knowledge of your past self's death.

"I'm sorry, Alice." Lain whispers to you, even now.

And suddenly a spark is transferred, firing neurons into your brain, trigging memories to arise from the hidden areas of your hippocampus.

It is too sudden—too much, it all flows forward. A parallel life, the glimpses you've barely seen in your dreams flood in so quickly, washing you away. You gasp and fall to the floor, convulsing. You remember the Lain of old smiling at you, and then how she began to change so quickly, turning into someone you didn't know. You remember the evil Lain, coming into your room, scorning you, mocking you. You remember the frightening and meek Lain, whose head appeared on the body of a green and red-striped shirt wearing alien. You remember going to her house, that one day, seeing the graffiti on the walls, the insides a mess, and bravely continuing your trek until you came to Lain's room. You remember the few moments Lain mentioned where you managed to convince her of humanity's worth and then suddenly…

Tears are in your eyes, you are so frightened by that hand that hovers besides Lain. It's a pointer, flickering…like reality was just a machine, a computer for some higher being. Lain is speaking to something, someone else that was there in the room, whom you couldn't see or hear. And then…the monstrosity begins, that horrible monstrosity and you're crying. So scared. Lain is trying to comfort you, she is clinging onto to you, not willing to let you go even as you scream and trash about, hurting her in the process. You can only think about getting away, getting away from contorting, distorted flesh trying to become human. And, and, you begin to feel your consciousness fading, the electrons of your brain being transferred somewhere else. Your mouth moves, but no sound comes out. Where did you go? Where did you go, Alice?

Minutes trickle by as you try to make sense of all these jumbled up feelings inside of you. Your fingers twitch; it is as if you lost control of your entire body. You don't understand any of it. No you do. You understand too well now. Everything begins to make sense. But that still doesn't make you any less scared.

Was this what you have been searching for, for all these years? Was this that…that…truth? Your head moves slightly to follow your gaze. You look up from the ground to see Lain staring at you. You can't read the emotion. But suddenly you are scared of her.

She reaches out toward you, but you shrink back.

Her smile is sad. She likely knew already knew the outcome far before you even made the decision.

"I'm sorry, Alice." That is all she says and suddenly she disappears. Just like that, gone. In the same manner she had first appeared.

It is only after an hour that you managed to pick yourself up. Deep breaths, you slow the whirling thoughts and tumultuous emotions inside you. By then, half of your body is asleep. Yet the abuse of your body is nothing compared to what's in your head.

You spend the next few days just going through the motions of life. Like you aren't exactly there, just moving like a shade of what you once were. But which one? Aren't you technically two Alices?

You are always thinking now, trying to collect all your wits and reach some understanding. However, that understanding seems to always elude you like some slippery eel. Nowadays, the electronic world around you is silent. There is only the feel of cool plastic, slightly hot metal when you touch machinery. You go to Cyberia and feel nothing. But you remember much. You remember Lain standing there, in that club. You remember her just standing there, where some crazed man shot himself and fell in a pool of his own blood. You remember the police station. At school, after class, you sit there in your seat and see through your restored memory a silhouette of Lain sitting there, in the desk you always kept empty. You subconsciously kept saving that desk, waiting for Lain to come back.

One day, you pass a shop on your way home. Normally you just breeze by it, not paying much attention to it. After all, it is a stuffed animal shop. You are too old for such things. But today things are different. You suddenly stop and backtrack to that shop. From the outside, you stare in. At a teddy bear, to be specific.

It doesn't seem special—just your average-looking teddy bear. Brown with black button-sewed eyes and a pink ribbon tied around its neck. But, for some reason, it holds your attention. So much that you go into the shop and buy it. On a whim, of course. Had you been thinking clearly, you never would have.

Bringing the stuffed animal home, you set it in front of you. The bear looks back at you with its expressionless, unseeing eyes. You smile.

"You're right. We can see each other anytime." You echo. There is a smile on your face as you reach out to brush your hand on the bear's cheek. Thankfully your husband wasn't home—he would surely think you were insane.

And yet, somewhere in your mind, you see Lain standing in front of you now, smiling shyly. Her gaze is kind, happy. Because this is not the end. It's only the beginning.

"That's right. We will." You hear Lain echo. In your mind you see her walking forward and picking up the bear, hugging it to her. She gives you a small smile.

For the first time in years, you feel at peace.


End file.
